


an evening's rest

by Ptolemia



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02, Trevor Is Appropriately Rewarded For Taking A Bath, alucard and sypha look after their boyfriend because he deserves the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ptolemia/pseuds/Ptolemia
Summary: “Oh, Trevor,” says Alucard, as he settles into the armchair by the fire, “you’re awake. Good. Sypha and I were just talking about you.”“You were?” says Trevor, not quite sure whether to be concerned or excited by the prospect. Alucard and Sypha being the way they are, it’s fifty-fifty as to whether this conversation is going to end in spectacularly inventive sex, or with the pair of them giving him the silent treatment until he agrees to actually cut his hair for once, or replace his boots just because half the sole is missing on one of them, or god knows what else. He lives in fear of the day they decide he needs to learn how to darn socks.





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh, Trevor,” says Alucard, as he settles into the armchair by the fire, “you’re awake. Good. Sypha and I were just talking about you.”

“You were?” says Trevor, not quite sure whether to be concerned or excited by the prospect. Alucard and Sypha being the way they are, it’s fifty-fifty as to whether this conversation is going to end in spectacularly inventive sex, or with the pair of them giving him the silent treatment until he agrees to actually cut his hair for once, or replace his boots just because half the sole is missing on one of them, or god knows what else. He lives in fear of the day they decide he needs to learn how to darn socks.

 

But Alucard doesn’t seem to be in a rush to explain himself any further. He just nods, and opens up the book he’d left on the arm of the chair with a contented little hum. “Mmm. Yes.”

Trevor sighs. “What exactly is this about?”

Alucard stretches languorously, regarding Trevor over the top of his book with a sly smile. “You’ll see.”

 

Possibly, reflects Trevor, this attitude suggests the odds are shifting slightly toward the ‘spectacularly inventive sex’ side of things; Alucard certainly seems cheerful enough for it. Although, of course, the man is an unreadably smug git at the best of times, and seems to get as much enjoyment out of doing terrible awful things - like bullying Trevor into taking baths and making him buy nice new shirts - as he does out of a good fuck. Which, frankly, is weird. And… sort of endearing. But mostly weird.

 

Trevor yawns, and flops back down onto the bed. He’s too exhausted and achy to bother putting much further thought into whatever the hell those two are conspiring about now. He’ll find out about it sooner or later, anyway; probably sooner, knowing them. He presses an exploratory palm to the bandages that wrap around his chest, and winces. Yeah. Alright. That’s sore.

“Darling,” says Alucard. “Please.”

Trevor shifts his hand, and presses the wound again.

“Darling,” says Alucard, slightly more sternly this time, “would you mind not doing that?”

“But it _hurts_.”

“Which is why I’m asking you not to aggravate it.”

 

Trevor throws a pillow at him. He’s lying down, and he throws it blind, but if the startled yelp from the other side of the room is anything to go by, he hits his mark. He grins, and then winces again because, yeah, throwing things is apparently also something that hurts like a bitch right now. Fucking banshee bastard. You take your eyes off a monster for one fucking moment, and… urgh. It's hardly the worst wound he’s ever dealt with, but it’s a nasty cut and he’s bruised all up his left side from where he landed funny and took a tumble over a tree root. Apart from anything else, the whole incident had been deeply embarrassing; even his ego is bruised, Trevor reflects, glumly.

 

The thrown pillow is being placed back next to his head before he even realises Alucard has crossed the room, and the cool hand on his forehead almost makes him jump. He expects an insult, something with a sting in the tail, but it doesn't come.

Instead, Alucard just sighs. “I’m really not trying to annoy you, Trevor.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job of it.”

The bed dips slightly as Alucard comes to perch beside him. “I apologise.”

“No, it’s not-” he sighs, deflating slightly. There’s nothing like a sincere apology to make him feel bad about being a grumpy bastard. “I’m just- I’m in pain. And I’m tired. ‘S nothing to do with you.”

 

Alucard makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, smoothing his hand over Trevor’s forehead before bending to press a delicate kiss to his brow. “It’s a little bit to do with me.”

“It’s not. Just… go back downstairs. Have a drink. Stop Sypha from beating everyone at cards. I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will,” says Alucard, and Trevor feels his weight shift off the bed, hears soft footsteps as he moves away across the room.

 

Well. Good. He’ll have more fun downstairs, anyway.

 

They’re staying at an inn they’ve visited a few times before – it’s not the closest one to the village where they’d found the banshee, but the sheets are clean and the food is hearty and the fires are always kept well-fed. More importantly, the owner seems to have a soft spot for them, and is happy to give the three of them the keys to just one room with a very large bed and absolutely no further questions asked, which is… pleasant. And unusual enough to be worth travelling a little way for. She’s older, a widow, and she runs the place alongside an unmarried and very attentive female friend who- well, Trevor hasn’t asked. And she, in turn, hasn’t asked why a nice young lady like Sypha would want to share a room with two men, one of whom fairly obviously isn’t exactly human. It’s nice. Last time they stayed here she’d spent an evening teaching him to knit, which he’d taken to with surprising aptitude, all things considered.

 

This time, however, he’s managed to get the shit kicked out of him by some stupid small-time spook – and, really, a banshee? For Christ’s sake, who even knew they _had_ claws? So instead of knitting by the hearth downstairs and being fed as much gingerbread as he wants while Sypha admonishes him not to spoil his appetite for dinner and Alucard hides behind his book and pretends not to laugh at the whole debacle, he’s stuck here. In bed. On his own. Feeling sorry for himself.

 

Only, he realises, as he hears the sound of a page turning, soft against the crackle of the fire, he’s not alone. Alucard is still here.

“You can fuck off downstairs if you want,” he says. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“You’re not, actually,” says Alucard. “Anyway, there’s no point. Sypha’s coming up here with the bathtub in a minute.”

 

Of course, thinks Trevor. The fucking bathtub. That’s the other reason Alucard and Sypha love this place so much – the lady who runs it has an actual fucking tub just for bathing in. It’s bizarre and very old-fashioned and surely unhealthy for the skin, sitting in all that water, but they both seem to love it.

Trevor groans. “I bathed _yesterday_ ,” he whines, “What do you people want? Blood?”

“Well, I’m certainly not opposed to it.”

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny.”

“I know, I’m hilarious,” says Alucard, his otherwise impeccable deadpan given away by a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “But no, to answer your question, I don’t need any blood at present. I was- that is, Sypha and I were just thinking that perhaps-”

 

There’s a clattering noise from below, and then a loud _thunk_ that sounds exactly like the sound that a large wooden tub would make if a very small but extremely enthusiastic young woman had insisted that she could carry it up the stairs alone and then dropped it on the third or forth step.

Trevor sighs. “You’d better go help her.”

“She won’t like that.”

There’s another loud _thud_ from the stairwell.

“You should do it anyway.”

“… I probably should.”

 

He drops his book back onto the chair with a sigh and hurries off to help Sypha – with his assistance she manages to negotiate the stairs with significantly more ease, and its only a minute or two before the pair of them are hauling the tub into the room and shoving it across the floorboards to sit near the fire. Alucard pushes his armchair aside to make space, then turns back to the tub and frowns.

“What about water? I don’t really want to spend the next hour running up and down the stairs with buckets, that feels-”

Sypha grins. “Oh, I’ve got this. Open the window.”

Alucard looks baffled, but obeys without question. As he swings the latch open, a cold gust of wind rattles into the room, and Trevor shivers. “Ah,” says Alucard, staring out into the darkness beyond with a grin, “Oh, I see. You're going to pull it from the stream? Very clever.”

“I thought so. Now, move out of the way. I want to do this quick – we shouldn’t leave the window open too long in the cold.”

 

Alucard shifts gracefully aside, and Sypha frowns out into the dark for a moment before twisting her hands into a familiar gesture. A stream of water comes roaring through the window and, with an imperious wave of her hand, sails directly into the tub. It’s filled in a matter of seconds, and Sypha has the window latched shut again before the wind manages to blow the candles out, which is a blessing.

 

Trevor hauls himself up onto his elbows with a grimace, and stares balefully at the tub. “You're making me take a bath?”

“It’s not that bad,” says Sypha. “You enjoy it once you’re in, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I- alright, maybe I do. But it can’t be good for you, sitting in all that water.”

Alucard rolls his eyes. “It’s perfectly fine. People have been doing it for thousands of years, it’s just fallen out of fashion recently. God knows why.” He wrinkles his nose.

Sypha’s bent over the water and gesturing again, a swirl of fire briefly visible between her palms as she heats the tub. She glances up at Trevor, expression soft. “You don’t have to have a bath if you don’t want to. But it might help with the bruising.”

 

Trevor grunts. “Yeah?”

“I mean, since you took a bit of a fall, and everything, and it looked super painful, and- you know, hot water helps.”

“Oh. Right. Well, it’s not even that bad, actually.”

“Trevor…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sleep it off.”

“Trevor,” she says, again, moving over to sit on the bed next to him, taking one of his palms in hers and gently squeezing. “Listen, Alucard and I were talking, earlier, and we were thinking that maybe- that perhaps you-” she glances over to Alucard for support.

He slinks round the bed and comes to sit on Trevor’s other side, hand once again reaching out to tangle into his hair. “Let us _help_ you,” he purrs.

 

Trevor narrows his eyes. “Is this a sex thing? I’m not opposed, obviously, but-”

Alucard laughs. “For god’s sake, Belmont, does your mind constantly inhabit a gutter?”

Sypha reaches over Trevor to give him a shove. “Hey, he’s asking a legitimate question! Don’t be mean. But no,” she says, gaze softening, her hand coming back to stroke down Trevor’s arm, “no, it’s not. Or, at least, it’s not _necessarily_ \- hmm. How shall I put this? It’s mostly a… a looking after Trevor thing.”

Trevor stares at her blankly.

Sypha sighs. “I just- look, I want to change your bandages, and Alucard has a salve that will help the wound heal. And you ought to take a bath, for the bruising. And for your shoulders – you carry so much tension there, you know.”

 

Trevor frowns. “Oh, uh… well, that’s nice, but I really don’t need anything more than a night’s sleep. Or two. And I’m fit enough to hunt, if we have to, so it isn’t-”

“It’s not about _need_ , for goodness’ sake, or about being fit to hunt, or anything like that. It’s about… look, I know that the wound will heal just fine, and that it isn’t that deep. And I know that bruises will fade even without a nice bath. But we’re here, aren’t we? And we’ve got somewhere to rest and nothing to hunt for now, and…” she touches his cheek lightly, her eyes searching his for approval. “And it’s nice,” she says, eventually, her tone a little softer now, “It’s nice to have nice things, and to be cared for. So we’d like to- to care for you. Please.”

“I…” He can feel a lump in his throat, sudden and unbidden; he’s not used to this, still, even in the year or so he’s had them by his side. He doesn’t quite know how to take it.

“You’re not a blade, you know,” says Alucard, still carding his fingers lightly through Trevor’s hair. “Looking after yourself isn’t only about maintaining your abilities.”

 

A year ago, Trevor thinks, he’d probably just have told them both to fuck off rather than deal with this much tenderness and care and soft, gentle loveliness. And a year before that he might well have left the building entirely and gone to sleep under a tree rather than face anyone looking at him like they might give a shit if he lived or died. And a year before that- well. You’d have to go a long way back to find a Trevor who wouldn’t run a mile at the thought of being looked after, in any capacity at all. The inevitable disappointment never seemed to be worth it.

 

But it’s not a year ago, or two years, or any of the god knows how many years he spent being wary and sharp and self-sufficient because he had no other choice. It’s today. So he swallows the lump in his throat, and nods, and even manages to muster a little grin Sypha moves to unwrap the bandages around his chest.

“You just want an excuse to get your hands on me,” he says.

She smirks. “Ha! As if I need an excuse.”

 

He winces as the fabric pulls away from the wound, thin cotton fibres clinging to the mess of congealed blood and flesh beneath. Sypha coos softly, easing the bandages away as gently as she can manage.

“Nearly done, my love,” she says, “nearly done. There!” She bundles the bandages up into a pile and wrinkles her nose. “We’re going to have to boil these later.”

Alucard takes them from her and discards them on the side-table by the bed without ceremony. “Later. Yes. Now, Trevor, can you take your own trousers off, or do you need assistance?”

“What?”

“Unless, of course, you wish to take them into the bath with you.”

“Oh! Right, yeah. No, I don’t want to do that. Although…” he frowns, contemplative for a moment. “I guess it would save on time washing clothes. Huh. If you think about it, it’s kind of weird that more people don’t do that, isn’t it?”

“No,” says Alucard, dryly. “It really isn’t.”

 

His hands go to the laces on Trevor’s pants without any further warning, and he busies himself in the process of removing them while Sypha heads back over toward the tub.

Trevor raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve decided I’m not competent enough to remove my own clothes, now?”

“I always assume you to be incompetent unless I see convincing evidence to the contrary. Lift your feet up a moment, please.”

“How come you still get to insult me even when you’re supposed to be looking after me? That doesn’t seem very fair.”

“Trevor,” says Alucard, briskly finishing stripping him down and giving him a slightly concerned once-over, his hands darting to touch a series of angry nicks and bruises that pattern their way down his legs, “if I ever pass up on the opportunity to insult you, I want you to know that I have certainly been replaced by some kind of nefarious impostor.”

 

Trevor laughs, and then grimaces. “Oh, ouch. Alright, nobody make me laugh. That hurts.”

On the other side of the room, Sypha stands and turns to face the bed, hands on her hips. “Alucard, are you being mean to Trevor?”

“No,” says Alucard.

“Yes,” says Trevor.

“Honestly,” says Sypha, coming back over toward the bed and shaking her head slowly, “I can’t leave you two alone for one minute, can I?”

“No,” says Alucard, reaching out lazily to lace his fingers into hers, “you’re stuck with us.”

She leans over the bed to kiss him briefly before turning her attention to Trevor. “Come here, darling. We’ll help you into the bath.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so a few people in the discord were discussing how trevor has been on his own since he was like 13 and needs to like?? learn some Good Self Care Habits and also actuaLLY JUST DESERVES TO BE PAMPERED BY HIS FAV PEOPLE
> 
> so this happened. and. it has turned out a lot longer than I expected,,, like long enough to be a two-parter rather than just a nice simple oneshot. anyway, chapter two should be done sometimes this week or next, & may bump the rating up a tad. but like... i swear i only sat down to write like 500 words!! honestly When Will God Stop My Sinful Hands????
> 
> (hopefully not before i manage to finish the second half of this lmaoooo)
> 
> as ever comments and kudos Sustain My Withered Soul, i love you guys <3
> 
> EDIT: yeah the second part was even longer im a Clown Woman


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: trevor's dick

Trevor lets them manoeuvre him upright and over toward the bath with minimal protest. He doesn’t really need the help, but it’s nice to feel gentle hands on his skin, it’s nice to have warm bodies to lean against. When they reach the tub, he eyes it with mild suspicion. Hot, vaguely perfumed steam is rising from the water – Sypha must have found some dried lavender to scatter in there.

She nudges his arm. “Go on, you can get in. It’s warm, I promise.”

He grumbles vaguely, but steps into the water without further protest. It’s certainly warm, hovering just on the right side of too hot, and he can feel the heat sink into his aching muscles as he settles down. He sighs happily, and lets his eyes flutter closed. Maybe those two have a point about baths, actually – not that he’s going to tell them that. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.

 

There’s a shift of cloth, and he blinks his eyes open just in time to see Sypha dropping her robe to the floor and beginning to unlace her undershirt.

She catches him staring and flushes slightly. “It’s just easier to help you wash if I get in too.”

“Uh-huh?”

“And we all got sprayed with banshee guts earlier, so...”

Trevor grins. “I’m not complaining.”

 

“Good,” she says, smiling back at him over her shoulder as she tugs her undershirt up over her head. Once it’s off she turns round and leans over the edge of the bath to kiss him, one hand gripping the wooden rim to support herself, one coming up to gently caress his cheek. “Sit back a little. I’m going to get a cloth and clean your chest up first, alright?”

 

She drops her underskirts without ceremony, laughing when Alucard comes to pick her clothes up and fold them as she moves away.

“You can’t just leave your things all over the floor like that,” he says, shaking his head in disapproval as he smooths creases out of the soft linen with the palms of his hands.

“Can’t I?” she says, rifling through one of the bags searching for a clean cloth. “Because I’m pretty sure I just did.”

Alucard rolls his eyes, visibly trying to repress a smirk. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

She pats his ass as she slips by him on the way to the bath tub. “Stop arguing and take your clothes off, silly. And would you mind finding that salve you said would work for Trevor’s chest? I think I saw it in the little canvas bag.”

 

And then she’s next to the bath, leaning over the rim of the tub to pat Trevor’s knee. “Spread your legs, darling,” she says, stepping into the water and laughing when he blushes.

“You- what?”

“I need somewhere to sit, Trevor – your legs are taking up half the bath.”

“Right! Yeah, uh, sorry, I…” He lets his legs fall open, feeling his face heat up as Sypha gives him a slow once-over, standing before him in the water with a hand on her hip, the firelight playing softly over her naked skin. She’s always been like that – totally unselfconscious, both about being looked at and about being caught looking. Her eyes trace the lines of his body with an intensity that makes him squirm; something that coils low in his gut that isn’t quite pleasure and isn’t quite embarrassment but has a little of both wrapped up in it, somehow.

“Thank you,” she says, settling down between his thighs and reaching forward to brush a lock of hair out of his face. “You look lovely.”

“I… huh.” He doesn’t ever quite know what to say to things like that, but she always seems content with whatever he manages to come out with, even if half the time it’s just stunned silence. She grins at his baffled expression, and leans in to press her lips to his. Her lips are warm against his, soft and gentle and a little chapped from a long day out in the cold autumn air. He can feel her smile into the kiss for a moment before she pulls back, eyes soft.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” she says, her hand brushing over the slope of his shoulders and down to ever so gently touch the wound on his chest. “So beautiful and so brave. Look at you.”

“It was just a banshee.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, so just another teeny-weeny little monstrosity that had been killing its way through the local villages, huh? Just a tiny little thing?”

“Well…”

“You know, I think you’ve got so good at fighting monsters and saving lives that you forget exactly how good at it you are.”

Trevor just makes an embarrassed grumbling noise and submits to having his face kissed without further argument; tiny featherlight kisses fluttering across his cheeks and his nose and his jaw until he lets himself relax into the water and Sypha’s arms with a long, shuddering sigh.

 

Eventually she leans back, clearly satisfied with her work, and turns her attention to his injuries. “Now, sit still for a second,” she says, dipping the rag she’s holding into the bathwater and wringing it out carefully before bringing it up to dab tentatively at the long, ragged cut across his chest. “Is that alright? Not too sore?”

“It’s fine.”

“Good,” she says, furrowing her brow in concentration as she gently bathes the wound. “Hey, Alucard?”

“Yes?”

“Have you found the salve?”

“Yes, I-”

“Then why aren’t you in the bath with us?”

 

Alucard sighs heavily. “I had to fold the clothes which you had strewn so thoughtlessly all over the floor. And then- you know that thing you do where you leave the laces all knotted up? I had to untangle-”

“You didn’t _have to_ untangle anything,” says Sypha, shaking her head as she continues to dab softly at Trevor’s chest. “You get so silly about things like that.”

“Well, if you didn’t leave your clothes all over the floor we wouldn’t have this problem, so-”

 

“Alucard,” says Sypha, “Darling. Love of my life, light of my world.”

He sighs. “Oh, go on. What do you want?”

“Stop fussing and take your clothes off. Please.”

“So demanding,” he says, but he’s smiling even as he shakes his head at her.

“Hey, I said please, didn’t I?”

Alucard rolls his eyes, and tugs his shirt off without further prompting.

 

Sypha pauses in her ministrations, turning around so that she can ogle Alucard as he strips his trousers off. Trevor joins her, resting his arms on the edge of the tub with a grin.

"Hey, strip faster,” he says. “Why do you always take so long to get naked?”

Sypha whoops, banging her palms merrily against the side of the tub. “Strip! Strip! Strip!”

Alucard pauses with his trousers around his ankles and one sock off, straightening up to his full height and shaking his head slowly. “You two have absolutely no sense of delayed gratification,” he says, waving the one sock he’s managed to get off at the pair of them with an accusatory glare. “You have no appreciation for the merits of subtlety or anticipation. You- what? Why are you both looking at me like that?”

 

Sypha giggles, leaning slightly to rest her head on Trevor’s shoulder. “You’re being cute. Also, you need to take your trousers off before you trip over them.”

“I don’t-” Alucard glances down at his feet, and the fabric pooling around his ankles, and sighs. “Oh god, I do, don’t I?” He sits back down on the bed and tugs his trousers the rest of the way off with a resigned shake of the head. He folds them carefully and puts them to one side, and then pulls his sock off and stares at it thoughtfully. “This needs darning. I don’t know what it is at the moment, but all my socks seem to be wearing through at the heel, I wonder-”

Sypha groans. “Alucard, you’re doing this on purpose now.”

He smirks, glancing up at her from under his lashes. “Doing what?”

“Take your underpants off before I come over there and tear them off you.”

 

“Oh, promises, promises,” he says, raising one perfect eyebrow and stretching himself out on the bed with a lazy little shiver. “But darling, surely you have other things to be doing right now - I thought this was about looking after Trevor?”

“It is,” says Trevor, before Sypha has a chance to respond. “And what Trevor wants is for you to get naked and get your ass over here.”

“I see. You’re a man of intellectual tastes, aren’t you, Belmont?” drawls Alucard, standing up with a yawn and flexing the muscles of his back as he stretches his arms up.

“Are you mocking me for finding you attractive? Really?”

 

Alucard contemplates this for a moment. “I… alright, fair point.” He tugs his underpants off and turns back toward the fireplace before either Trevor or Sypha can get a good look at him, reaching up to grab a ribbon he’s left on the mantelpiece and slowly putting his hair up into a messy bun.

 

Eventually, however – after spending a solid minute fussing with the arrangement of his hair, the vain bastard - he takes pity on them. He turns round and saunters into the centre of the room before pausing, totally naked and glorious in the firelight, his gaze smouldering, one hand resting lightly on the arcing line of his hip. “Was this where you wanted me, Belmont?”

“Ah,” says Trevor, leaning on the rim of the bath and resting his chin on his hand with a contented sigh, “there he is. Like a statue of a Greek god.”

“Are you kidding?” snorts Sypha, “There’s no way he looks like a Greek god – I mean, have you seen the statues? Their dicks are always _tiny_ -”

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” says Alucard, ignoring Trevor and Sypha’s pouts as he drops the pose and steps lightly over the rim of the tub and into the bathwater. “Go on, everyone budge up. Make some room.”

 

After some discussion and quite a lot of water being splashed in people’s faces with various degrees of malicious intent, Trevor ends up sandwiched between the other two, with Alucard practically in his lap and Sypha pressed up against his back.

“Hey,” he says, as Alucard runs a palm through his hair, the fingers of his other hand tracing along his thigh, slow but ever so deliberate.

“Hey,” says Alucard, before pulling him into an absolutely filthy kiss. “Mmm,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly, “sorry, you just look so… no, hang on, I’m not done.” He kisses him again, a little slower this time.

Sypha kisses the side of his neck as Alucard leans back again, his eyes bright and a mottled flush spreading down his chest into the water. “He’s ever so pretty,” she says, resting her chin on Trevor’s shoulder as her hands curl possessively around his waist, “don’t you think?”

 

“Oh yes,” breathes Alucard, running his fingers along Trevor’s jaw and tilting his chin slightly from side to side. There’s hunger in his eyes, yes, but something soft and infinitely tender too, and it’s the softness that wins out, but only just – “We’re so lucky,” he says, smoothing his thumb along the line of Trevor’s jaw, “we’re so lucky to have you-”

“We are,” murmurs Sypha, pressing heated kisses everywhere she can reach; his shoulders, his back, the crook of his neck, “oh, we are, we are, we are.”

Trevor feels himself going red, feels the heat prickle up his spine; between the steam over the water and the press of bodies, between all the soft hands and the impossibly warm lips, he feels as though he might burn up entirely. He tries to say- something, he’s not sure what, exactly, but it just comes out as a strangled mewling noise.

 

Alucard pulls back at that, a soft smile dancing over his lips. “Holding up alright there, Belmont?”

“I’m- you’re both being so _nice_ to me,” grumbles Trevor, as Sypha snort-laughs into his ear.

“Is that a complaint?” she asks, pulling him close and reaching around his waist to press her hands against the soft lines of his waist, his belly, his upper thigh.

He leans back and lets out a little huff of air as she kisses the very corner of his jaw where it meets his neck. “I guess not.”

“You guess not?”

“I- mmph,” says Trevor, momentarily distracted as Alucard trails an exploratory hand over his hips.

“Use your words, Trevor,” says Sypha, laughing slightly as he lets his head drop back onto her shoulder.

“’S not my fault that you two doing this makes me go all fucking stupid,” he says, twisting around a little so he can kiss her properly.

 

“You don’t need our help to do that,” says Alucard, ruffling his hair companionably as he stands and steps out of the bath.

“You- hey, where are you going?”

Sypha leans over his shoulder, frowning over at Alucard’s damp body as he stretches out and wanders off toward the bags. “Yeah, hang on, we are definitely not done here.”

“I know, I know,” he says, reaching down and picking up a little glass pot from the floor by the bed before turning back to the tub and rolling his eyes fondly at the pair of them. “I forgot to bring the salve over. You know, the stuff for the banshee scratch.”

Sypha flops back against the rim of the tub with an exaggerated groan. “How did you forget that?! It was literally the one thing you actually had to do and you forgot? You are so lucky that you’re pretty,” she grumbles, as Alucard steps back into the water and gestures at them to shuffle up so he can sit down again. “So lucky!”

 

“Everyone kept yelling at me to strip,” he says, dryly, carefully unscrewing the lid of the little glass vessel he’s holding. “It was somewhat distracting. Now, Trevor, sit still for me, will you?”

“Sure.”

“This might sting a little.”

“I’m sure I’ll cope.

Alucard scoops out a little of the salve on the tips of his fingers and dabs lightly at Trevor’s chest. Trevor tries not to grimace and – if the look on Alucard’s face is anything to go by – fails spectacularly.

 

“Sorry,” he says, pausing for a moment with an apologetic shake of the head, “It’s not the most pleasant feeling, I know, but it really does work; my mother used to make it. I found her recipe when we were last at the castle.”

Trevor winces as Alucard goes back to daubing salve over the claw-marks on his chest. “‘Might sting a little’ my ass,” he grumbles.

 

Alucard kisses his nose. “It won’t take long, I promise. And once I’m done it’ll calm back down very quickly.”

Sypha rests her chin on his shoulder and strokes the shell of his ear ever so gently. “You’re being very brave, you poor thing.” she says, pulling back a little so that she can smooth her hands over his shoulders, carefully pressing against the knots in his aching muscles. “Here, why don’t you let me take your mind off it for a moment?”

She practically purrs the last part of that sentence, and his dick twitches hopefully at the implication. He tries to muster up the energy to be embarrassed by that, but there’s not really much point, given that they’re all ass-naked and very closely pressed together and he’s been half-hard for most of the past… oh, several minutes, at least. Longer, maybe.

 

Sypha presses her palms down his back and then up to his shoulders again, and squeezes slightly. “Oh, you're always so tense, Trevor... where's it sorest? There?”

“Mmm. Bit further in.”

She shifts her hands, pressing her thumbs into the muscle as she goes. “Here?”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘S worse on the left side. Think I pulled something when I fell over.”

She makes a sympathetic clucking noise, rubbing careful circles at the base of his neck. “It looked like a nasty fall. Hey, listen, I’m going to try something- you let me know if it gets too warm, alright?”

“If what gets too- oh!” he says, blinking in surprise as he feels Sypha’s palms, suddenly heated against his skin.

 

Alucard chuckles at his expression, carefully screwing the lid back onto the salve as he shakes his head. “Is she doing the thing with her hands?”

“She- yeah, Sypha, how did you-”

She leans forward to kiss his cheek, hands still working over his shoulders. When she speaks, he can hear rather than see the self-satisfied little smirk in her voice. “Oh, this? Just a little something Alucard and I have been working on.”

Alucard reaches over the side of the tub to place the jar down on the floor, and leans back with a smug little yawn, eyes roving possessively over Trevor’s naked form. “I suggested that it might be possible,” he says, “but Sypha must take the credit for putting my theories into practise. I merely… assisted.”

Trevor raises an eyebrow. “Assisted?”

Sypha laughs. “Oh, yes. Alucard has been a most wonderful test subject.”

“Indeed. My ability to swiftly heal hand-shaped burn marks that _somebody_ managed to leave on my arse was in high demand-”

“It was an accident!” says Sypha, having the good grace to look at least somewhat embarrassed about it. “I… may have gotten a little over-excited, that’s all.”

 

Trevor and Alucard both snort at that, and then they lapse into a warm sort of silence for a while as she kneads her hands over the lines of tension across his shoulders and down his back. Alucard watches, mostly, with a sleepy sort of contentment in his gaze. He leans forward now and again to press soft kisses to Trevor’s temple, his collarbone, his mouth.

Trevor whines softly at the contact as Alucard leans in once more, kissing him with a little more heat this time, lingering against his lips for a long moment before he pulls back ever so slightly, their mouths still almost close enough to touch. He doesn’t say anything about the fact that Trevor’s dick is now pressed up against the firm muscle of his abdomen and very obviously hard - but he looks down, and he raises an eyebrow, and he pulls that stupid smug face that he likes to pull when he thinks he’s got Trevor cornered. Which - in fairness - he has.

 

“Look,” says Trevor, trying very hard to behave himself and keep his hips from bucking forward in search of some fucking friction because _Jesus Christ._ “Uh, I know you said that this wasn’t a sex thing, but-”

Sypha pauses, pulling back from where she’s pressing delicate kisses against the back of his neck to shake her head at him, grinning ever so slightly. “We said it didn’t _have_ to be a sex thing, Trevor.”

Alucard smirks, running his palms up the length of Trevor’s thighs and laughing when he feels them tense under his grip. “We’re not going to leave you in the lurch if you’re in need of something. Are we, Sypha?”

“Of course not! We’re here to take care of you, after all.”

“Oh,” says Trevor, slowly. “Oh, right.”

“So,” she says, her voice all soft and breathy in his ear, “Do you need anything, my love?”

He turns his head slightly so he can catch her eye. “I… please,” he manages, after a moment.

 

Normally she’d tease if he tried that, make him spell out exactly what he wants until he’s a blushing stuttering mess. But instead she just grins, and says, “I thought you’d never ask,” and reaches round to take him in hand without breaking eye-contact.

 

He manages to muffle whatever stupid noise he was about to make for perhaps half a second, and then Alucard puts his hand over Sypha’s and he just gasps, chest shuddering as he catches ragged panting breaths between burbled half-sentences that barely make sense even to his own ears.

“I- god, please,” he manages, not entirely sure what it is he’s asking for any more. But that’s alright. He doesn’t need to be, after all. They’ll know. They always do, somehow.

 

Alucard braces his free hand against Trevor’s waist, pulling him closer as he strokes along his length. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, tracing fervent open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, “it’s alright, we’re here. Anything you need.”

Sypha tightens her grip for a moment, Alucard’s fingers laced with hers. Trevor gasps, and writhes, and rocks his hips as best as he can, hemmed in between the pair of them like this. She kisses his shoulder, ever so gently. “There you go,” she says, “that’s it, you’re doing so well, my love.”

“You are,” breathes Alucard, “so well, Trevor, you’re doing so well…”

 

After that Trevor mostly loses track of exactly who’s hands are where on him, or who’s saying what. It’s all- fuzzy, somehow, as though he’s half asleep but also more awake than he’s ever been. Bright, but distant, everything narrowed down to an impossibly small point where their skin touches his. Words are more like feelings at this point, soft against him like the water is, all praise and tenderness and god he wants- he wants-

 

“Shh,” says Sypha, shifting her grip on him once more and pressing her lips to his ear, “Are you going to come for me now, my love?”

He nods, feeling – everything, for a moment; their hands on him and the shift of water and the way her breasts press against his back and the anchor point where his hands are gripping Alucard’s shoulders as though he’ll drown if he lets go, and-

“That’s it,” she says, “You can let go now. Let go.”

 

And he does, spilling over her hand, and Alucard’s, and into the bathwater, and vaguely somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks, oh, that’s a shame, now Sypha will probably have to get fresh water if they want to use the tub again tomorrow instead of just reheating the stuff that’s already here. And then his mind goes very, very quiet for a moment, and he just feels… content, and warm, and safe, and ever so slightly hazy around the edges. It’s like being drunk, but much, much better.

 

By the time he regains at least vestigial control of his body, he’s being hauled out of the tub by two pairs of hands.  Alucard picks up a towel from the side-table and begins to rub him down gently while Sypha absent-mindedly licks her hand clean, staring down at the tub with a slight frown.

“We’re going to need new bathwater,” she says, shaking her head.

“That’s what- hey, stop, you’re getting the towel in my mouth,” splutters Trevor, batting a grinning Alucard away from him until he acquiesces and stops trying to rub his face dry - “That’s just what I was thinking.”

“Great minds,” says Sypha, with as much dignity as possible given that she’s stark naked with one foot up on the edge of the tub, gallantly attempting to lick the last remnants of Trevor’s seed off the edge of her elbow.

Alucard throws her a towel, and sighs. “You’re both so fucking weird,” he says, fondly. “Dry off and get into bed, Belnades. Trevor, let me get your legs, hang on a second…”

 

Trevor yawns, submitting to having himself towelled dry with what is probably unnecessary thoroughness, and then blushing like one of the village girls when Alucard decides he’s done and pulls him in for a kiss.

“Thank you,” he says, cupping Trevor’s jaw in his hand, his voice low and a little gravelly. “I- you did wonderfully.”

Trevor shrugs, squirming a little at the intensity of his gaze. “I mean, you and Sypha did most of the work,” he mumbles, “I just, you know, uh… was there… and-” he frowns, sudden realisation washing over him. “Hang on, did you even-”

 

He slides a palm over the broad, hard plane of Alucard’s stomach, reaching down to take him in hand, but Alucard has him by the wrist before he can even gets close, and shakes his head. “Not the point,” he says, smiling slightly.

Sypha shuffles up behind him, cocooned in her towel and slightly red-cheeked still from the bath, and rests her head contentedly against his shoulder. “Definitely not the point.”

“But-”

“Get in to bed, Trevor,” she says, in her best authoritative tone. It’s slightly undermined by the fact that she’s currently around ninety percent towel and has damp hair sticking out at improbable angles all around her head, but it works, nonetheless. Sypha is very powerful like that.

 

So Trevor’s the first one into the bed, followed very shortly by Alucard, who brings over fresh rags and carefully re-wraps the bandages over his chest, smoothing cool fingers through his hair and kissing his brow when he’s done. Sypha takes a while longer – mostly because Alucard won’t let her into the bed with wet hair – but eventually she crawls in next to them, waving a hand lazily at the fire, which obligingly blows itself out.

 

Trevor yawns, tired and loose and utterly content as he feels her slide under the covers, curling up against him and lacing her hand with Alucard’s over his stomach.

“You’re wonderful,” she says, warmly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then another to his forehead.

Alucard hums his agreement, burying his face in the crook of Trevor’s neck with a contented sigh.

 

Trevor yawns again, his eyes flickering shut even as he fights to keep them open. “The fuck did I do to deserve the two of you?” he says, and even as tired as he is the edge of wonderment is evident in his voice.

“I don’t think that love is something you earn,” says Alucard, after a moment. “I think it just is.”

“Yeah,” says Sypha. “What Alucard said. Also, you have really great legs. That helps.”

 

Trevor laughs, and for a moment he’s vaguely aware that he wants to say something – that he loves them, that he always will love them, that they also both have really great legs – but whatever it is, it’s too far away for him to find the words. He’s too warm and sleepy, and there are too many gentle arms around him, and… and he has tomorrow. And the day after that. And forever, presumably, whatever that means.

 

So he lets himself drift off, sleep catching up to him almost before he has time to realise it’s there, and he thinks – huh. He could get used to this whole ‘looking after Trevor’ thing, actually. He really could.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway this is the secret castlevania ending that netflix dont want you to know about. u heard it here first.
> 
> trevor deserves........... uhhh the world actually. thats all i have to say.
> 
> as ever, comments, kudos, and large anonymous gifts of unmarked gold bullion are greatly appreciated. love yall!! <3


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